


Episode 2: Bad food, vandalism

by HSavinien



Series: Nile and Booker's Field Trips [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Banished Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Fast Food, Food Issues, Gen, Neo-Nazis, Nile hangs out with him anyway, Post-Canon, References to food insecurity, Vandalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/pseuds/HSavinien
Summary: Nile and Booker's continuing adventures. This time: Neo-Nazis and fast food.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Nile Freeman
Series: Nile and Booker's Field Trips [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911277
Comments: 10
Kudos: 155





	Episode 2: Bad food, vandalism

“Oh, god,” Nile said, pulling the piece of meat back out of her mouth with her chopsticks and staring at it, appalled. “This isn’t Chinese barbecue pork, it’s...ham steak in barbecue sauce. This is the most whitepeople excuse for Chinese food I’ve ever seen.”

Booker shrugged, stuffing more beef and broccoli into his mouth from the container that was actively dripping grease. “This is small-town Minnesota.”

"I know," she grumbled. "I should have waited until we hit a city." She ate her eggrolls instead. They were at least mainstream-US bad, rather than a  _ travesty. _

Booker snitched one and huffed out a laugh after the first bite. “Mass-produced and bought frozen.”

Nile sighed. “Okay, next time we’re just doing fast food or diners until we get to an actual city.” She watched a bead of grease slide down his wrist. “Please stop eating that. I’ll go get you a burger or something instead.”

“It’s food. Won’t kill me,” he said, mouth full.

“Well,  _ no, _ but it’s actively grossing me out and you won’t go hungry if you don’t eat it. I’ve got twenty bucks. You want DQ or Culvers?”

“Which one has the fried cheese?”   
  
“Culvers.”

“All right.”

Nile buckled up and flicked on the windshield wipers, shaking her head. “Okay, so I know you’re from before France was really a culinary touchstone, but I expected you to care a  _ little _ more about eating things that taste good.” She glanced over and took her hand off the gearshift. “Seatbelt.”

Booker sighed and buckled up. “We were poor. We ate what we could scrape out of the vegetable patch and the eggs from a couple of chickens. If there were enough calories to work, we were coming out ahead.” He shrugged. “And now...if it’s tasty, great. If not, it’s still food.”

Nile signaled and turned back onto the highway from the river overlook. She got that. She’d played week-old leftover roulette and sighed over another meal of beans and rice when the neighbors had been cooking sausages and the smell lingered in the apartment building’s hall.

They drove through the Culvers, picking up burgers, cheese curds for Booker, and a shake for Nile, and headed for the bar that Copley had suggested for their intercept. 

Booker ate his replacement dinner without commentary and Nile felt slightly better about her life choices with some run-of-the-mill fast food inside her. They'd have to hit a real Chinese place soon, but in the meantime…

"Book, you okay with this?"

Booker looked down at the American flag t-shirt and ripped jeans he wore. "I'll be fine as long as I don't have to talk much, I think."

"Yeah, you don't really pass once you've opened your mouth." Nile sighed. "But you'll definitely raise less suspicion than me. I'll park in the alley and leave the motor running. You got the supplies?"

Booker smiled at her wryly, and spun a knife between his fingers that she hadn't seen him pull out. The bar loomed ahead of them, the neon sign flickering in the drizzle. 

"Right," she said, grinning. "Just puncture three tires on anything with stickers of a Punisher skull, three percent or Roman numeral three, eights, Confederate flag, SS symbol, anything to do with guns, the black and white flag with a blue line through the center, and...you know, let's just take out the whole parking lot. Eat with Nazis, be complicit. If there's a gun case or fuel container visible, you pull it out and click the comm; I'll jump out and load it up in the trunk for disposal." She took a left into the alley and snugged the Honda up behind the dumpsters, flicking the lights off. They wouldn't be readily visible to anyone coming out the back door. 

"Got it."

"I'm your backup and getaway. If you get jumped, yell and I'll come running." Nile looked at him. 

"I will," he protested. "I promise you, I will not try to die with quiet dignity."

"Good. I'm not going to lose mon frère to a bunch of fucking boogaloo and neo-Nazi assholes. We're going to fuck up their shit and make them reconsider the expense of going to play terrorist in somebody else's town."

She checked her vest and rolled her dark grey ski mask down. "Hit it, Book."

They hit it. 

Booker managed to take out half the parking lot before anyone noticed him wandering around their cars, Nile sneaking out to snag an alarming number of gun cases and duffle bags. 

When the guy who'd come out looking for something from his pickup challenged Book, he stumbled and muttered about having to piss and got laughed at and shoved toward the bushes. Booker flipped him off genially and followed the shove and would've gotten away clean if the guy hadn't dropped his keys and noticed his tire when he bent down to grab them. 

He stood up, reaching for the small of his back, and Nile grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, driving the heel of her hand up under his chin. He crumpled. She clicked back on the comm. Booker looked up and nodded and they both set out clearing the rest of the parking lot as fast as possible. 

He was missed. A few minutes later, Nile and Booker had to run for it, piling into the Honda and peeling out onto the highway with pistol shots cracking the air behind them.

By the time they were on the road again with a trunk full of guns (and a  _ rocket launcher, what the fuck_), they were giggling and giddy. 

"Good job," Nile finally managed. "Thanks for coming along, Booker."

"Anytime," he promised. "Now pull over so I can change the plates."

She grinned at him and got off at the next rest stop. "Sure. Want to try to get all the way to the Boundary Waters tonight? Jay always said that was the best park in the state."

"Sounds good." He got out, brandishing a screwdriver and the spare license plates from under the seat. Nile got out too and slapped a few carefully distressed bumper stickers on the back, proclaiming this to be the car of a proud honor student parent, JESUS SAVES, and that the driver loved their labrador. It was still about a three hour drive, but Booker didn't mind her music, and the drizzle was stopping. They'd have good weather for the trip. 

Food aside, it had been a good evening. 


End file.
